


oh, honey, is this a proposal?

by ORiley42



Series: put a ring on it [1]
Category: Ocean's (Movies), Ocean's 8, Ocean's Eight
Genre: Banter, Established Relationship, F/F, Flirting, Heist Wives, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 08:12:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15360075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ORiley42/pseuds/ORiley42
Summary: Some funny fluff, post-Met job, in which emotions are shared and a proposal is made.





	oh, honey, is this a proposal?

**Author's Note:**

> this movie!!!!  
> i'm weak and gay, please enjoy this nearly plot-less bantering fluff-fest

“Is that yours?” Lou asked, squinting at the burgundy Prada handbag dangling off Debbie’s elbow, which had certainly not been located there upon her departure earlier that evening.

“Why do you think I’m holding it?” Debbie countered.

“Because it _wasn’t_ yours but you wanted it to be.”

“But isn’t ownership such a complex concept? Rooted in so many systems of–”

Lou interrupted gently, “It’s too late for philosophy, darling.”

“It’s nearly one in the morning, so –”

“Alright, then it’s too early for philosophy. In any case, I regret asking. Enjoy your new…find.”

Having won, Debbie now raised her hands with a grin and said, “Alright, you’ve caught me. I’m a total kleptomaniac, I can’t help it. It all started when I was a child…” Debbie tossed the bag to the ground and threw herself dramatically across the bed, head landing neatly in Lou’s lap.

“Is this a roleplay thing?” Lou asked, twirling a strand of Debbie’s hair around her ring finger, “I’m not sure I approve of the dirty therapist, I think that’s crossing a line.”

“And crossing lines is something we _never_ do,” Debbie drawled.

“You’re in a bit of a mood, tonight. This morning, whatever,” Lou cut off Debbie’s predictable quibbling reply, “I imagine it’s the post-job boredom setting in.”

Debbie’s face remained carefully neutral, confirming Lou’s hypothesis.

“Listen, it’s natural to feel this way. Coming down from the high, all that money in your pocket but no plan for your future.”

“That’s blatantly untrue, I do have a plan for my future.”

“Do tell.”

Debbie paused for effect before reaching up and bopping Lou on the nose. “You.”

“Oh, that’s _terrible_ ,” Lou declared, feigning distress. “Honestly, I feel like I’ve just been hit on by a man with a receding hairline and ketchup stains on his polyester-blend button-down. Did prison do this to you?”

“Yes,” Debbie confirmed, “But the yard also gave me these killer triceps, so I think it’s even.” Debbie flexed said muscles until Lou cracked a smile. “But seriously,” Debbie dragged herself upright until she and Lou were sitting eye to eye, “pretty much the only thing solid in my future right now is you. Also, possibly a Porsche. But I could be persuaded into the Lamborghini camp if that’s a deal-breaker.”

Lou laughed, “Purchased with your post-Met profits, or are you going to put on a wig and a Swedish accent to snag the car too?”

“You’re kinda hung up on this whole theft thing, considering your own career choices,” Debbie pointed out with a pout.

“What I’m hung up on, as you say, was my best friend and dearest lover being in a steel-reinforced time-out for five plus years. I’d prefer you remain out here in the fresh air with me, at least for a while.” Lou trailed the back of her hand down Debbie’s cheek, drifting down to her neck.

Debbie took Lou’s wandering hand in both of her own and pressed it against her heart. “I get it, I do. Prison was really bad. Genuinely rough times. But thinking of you was–”

“Oh, come off it –” Lou scoffed, but Debbie steam-rolled over her protest, clutching her hand closer.

“Thinking of you was how I got through those parole boards.”

Lou blinked. “Excuse me? Is that a compliment?”

“I spun this whole story about wanting ‘the simple life.’” Debbie paused for Lou’s mandatory snort of disbelief, which she supplied. “It was obviously a work of fiction. But a pretty great fiction, once I started imagining you standing behind the picket fence. And the trick to any good con is to have a grain of truth in it. Something real. And us – that was real.”

“Stop, I’m getting all misty,” Lou sniffed, her sarcasm half-hearted.

Debbie smirked, bringing Lou’s hand to her mouth and pressed a long kiss to the center of her palm. “Baby, I’m just trying to tell you, you’re all I need.”

“Well, honey…” Lou drifted forward until they were sharing breath, “now you’re just _lying_. And usually you’re such a convincing liar.”

“It’s not a lie if I believe it,” Debbie replied without missing a beat.

“Hmm, that’s an interesting point,” Lou mused, lying back on her mountain of plush, Mulberry silk-covered pillows and arranging her legs on either side of Debbie’s hips. “I suppose self-delusion counts as its own category.”  

“And you’ve said _I’m_ lacking in the romance department,” Debbie grumbled, raising an eyebrow even as she hooked her fingers under Lou’s knees.

“I’m absolutely bursting with romance,” Lou said, deadpan. “And I know you. My love. And you’ll never stop chasing the dragon.”

Debbie tilted her head back thoughtfully. “Assuming for the moment that you’re right—and I’m big enough to admit that you’ve been right at least twice in our shared time together, possibly more than that—then do you want to be the princess I rescue from that dragon? Or maybe my co-knight? I’m not really sure what role is left for you in this analogy…”

Lou bit her lip and hooked her ankles together behind Debbie’s back, reeling her in until they were pressed chest to chest. “I’ll take whatever role means I get to save your fine ass from the monster’s teeth and look good doing it.”

“You look good doing everything,” Debbie murmured.

“It’s true. You should feel very lucky to have me.”

“When I count my blessings, you are the first, middle, and last gift I give thanks for.”

“Darling,” Lou said, surprised, “have you taken up poetry?”

“No, that was something my cellie used to say about her cocker spaniel, Mister Marshmallow.”

“ _Cocker spaniel_ —?” Lou grabbed a pillow and tried to whack Debbie upside the head with it, but Debbie was faster, even half doubled-over with laughter as she was, and had Lou pinned by the wrist in a few seconds.

“I was informed that Mister Marshmallow was very handsome and slightly prickly, but ultimately affectionate with those he loved and trusted. So, you can understand how appropriate I found it.”

“You are incorrigible. An absolute beast,” Lou pronounced. “Can’t understand how they let you out of prison.”

“Yeah.” For a moment Debbie’s eyes flickered with a sad, faraway look. “I missed you too.”

“Oh.” Lou sighed. “There you go making me feel things, again.”

“Feelings suck,” Debbie concurred, releasing Lou and settling into a comfortable straddle of her waist.

“And yet…” Lou tapped her chin and then nodded sharply, shoving gently at Debbie until she moved off of her. “Yes, I suppose there’s nothing else for it.”

“What?” Debbie asked, curiosity piqued as Lou clambered off the bed and kneeled down to rummage underneath.

“I have something dreadfully sentimental to show you…” she said as she pulled out a slightly rusted metal tin, the type that usually ends up holding sewing supplies or lost buttons. She shoved it into Debbie’s hands and then arranged herself neatly on the edge of the bed.

Debbie pried the top off the container to find a messy jumble of paper scraps covered in writing.

“Did you develop a hoarding problem while I was gone?” she asked, tilting her head sympathetically at Lou.

“You’re the only one around here with a hoarding problem, Miss I Stole Thirteen Lipsticks of the Same Shade.”

Debbie would’ve shot back something clever, but her repertoire of retorts faded away once she began to realize what exactly she was holding.

Lifting a scrap of notepaper from the tin, she read the words in Lou’s tight scrawl to herself: “Forgot to eat all day again, almost passed out at work, gave the girls quite a scare. You were never good about feeding yourself either, but between the two of us we got at least a couple of squares in a day. Well, at least I’ll look fabulously thin when you get out…”

“These are….” Debbie muttered, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she picked up a napkin with red pen scribbles reading: “saw a pigeon steal an entire pretzel out of a man’s hands on the street, thought you’d have been proud of the dirty little blighter.”

“The things I wanted to say to you, but couldn’t, since you were busy being incarcerated,” Lou explained, making a show of examining her nails, although they both knew she was waiting tensely for Debbie’s reaction.

Debbie didn’t know quite how to react, so she just read more.

“Wishing you were here even more than usual. Heard that old Sinatra piece that you always used to hum when you were brushing your teeth playing in a shop and had to have a sit down else my legs give out. Why did you always hum that song? And why aren’t you here humming it now, you bastard?”

“Just got quite distressed because I forgot what color your eyes were. Had to go find a picture of you, quick-like. Could only find that snap of us from Halloween back in 2007 where you convinced me it would be funny to dress up as sexy subpar world leaders and you were the most disturbingly attractive Ronald Reagan the world’s ever seen, and I was a positively bewitching Margaret Thatcher, and not a single person understood who either of us were. I don’t know why I ever let you talk me into anything…”

Debbie was still processing when Lou broke in, saying, “I had to burn a lot of them, of course, anything that mentioned our work. I wasn’t going to leave sad little bits of evidence to be used in court against me. But the safe-for-work ones…”

Debbie raised an eyebrow and flicked the corner of a pastel bit of stationery, “You and I have very different definitions of ‘safe for work.’ Mine, for example, would definitely exclude phrases like ‘pert dusky nipples’.”

“Ooh, I thought you’d appreciate that one. I picked it up from one of those dreadful dime romance novels you see in the grocery store. None of the protagonists had any of your spunk or brains, but a lot of them at least had heaving bosoms that got me through those cold, lonely nights.” 

Lou’s attempt to lighten the mood only half-worked, and Debbie’s amused mask faltered a bit as she came across another note that held pain that was far too real.

“I didn’t know you missed me that much,” she finally admitted.

“You absolute fool,” Lou said bluntly, “I missed you so much I seriously considered taking up alcoholism. But that was just so trite and uninspired, I had to resort to, well...”

“Schmaltz?”

“Yes, that’s an appropriately heinous adjective for it.”

“Well, I love them,” Debbie declared, gathering the tin and its contents close, “And I’m going to keep them and cherish them forever.”

“Oh, no you’re not–”

“I could frame them or make them into a mobile. Or maybe you could take up scrapbooking and do a whole thing for me…”

“That’s it, I’m torching the lot…” Lou looked around, pretending to search for a match, and when she turned back, Debbie had taken a knee next to the bed and was holding out a small velvet black box.

The gears in Lou’s brain ground to a halt as she tried to process the sight in front of her. “What…what are you doing?”

“You’re a pretty bright gal,” Debbie winked, “I think you can put the pieces together.”

“Are we doing a bit?” Lou asked, a touch faint. “When you open that box, is a dove going to fly out, or one of those endless rainbow scarves?”

“No, I’m afraid this is exactly what it looks like.” Debbie lifted the box’s cover to reveal a simple, glittering diamond set in lightly engraved silver.

Her brain-to-mouth filter being currently out of operation, Lou said the first thing that came to her mind: “Who did you steal that from?”

“No one, I bought it. Legally,” Debbie added, smiling proudly.

“It’s a little small,” Lou said, trying for lofty and barely clearing composed, “considering your bank account boasts more zeroes than that of a small European nation.”

“That would be because I bought it with money I acquired through entirely non-criminal means. That modest diamond represents my unused college fund. Clean money, put in a savings account when I was a kid by my parents. When it became clear that I wouldn’t be using it for its intended purpose, my parents let me have free reign of it, and I tucked it away somewhere safe. I was always saving it for something special. When I was younger, I thought it might be for that one special job. When I got older, I thought it would be a safety cushion for when that one special job inevitably blew up on my face. Then I met you, and I knew that I’d never been saving that money for me.”

Lou sucked in a deep breath, then another, before saying rapidly “If you make me cry, I shall slap you.”

“Oh, baby…”

“I am _not_ kidding.”

“I know. And if you say yes, you can do whatever you want to me.”

“I don’t really want to slap you.”

“I know that too.”

A silent pause formed and stretched between them. Debbie was almost visibly vibrating with the effort of not speaking and intruding on Lou’s thoughts.

“Oh!” Lou started after a solid minute of quiet, like she just realized where she was and what was happening. “I haven’t given you an answer, have I?”

“You have not,” Debbie agreed, voice strained.

“Shall I make you guess?”

“Please, don’t.”

“Shall I make you…wait five years for an answer?”

“I am _begging_ for mercy.”

“Well, I am fond of you begging…” Lou smiled, sliding off the bed to stand in front of Debbie.

She held out her left hand and wiggled her fingers. “Are you going to put the rock on me, or am I going to stand here all night?”

“ _God_ ,” Debbie let out the breath she’d been holding with a whoosh, plucking the ring free and tossing the box over her shoulder, “And you say that I’m gonna get _you_ killed someday.”

“Just evening the odds, my dear,” Lou said lightly, the slight shake in her hand as Debbie slid the ring onto her finger giving the lie to her cool façade.  

“Well, damn.” Debbie tilted Lou’s hand so the ring caught the room’s dim golden light. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a prettier sight.”

“I have,” Lou said, not caring that she sounded like a terrible sap, before reaching out to hold that beautiful sight in both hands and kiss the living daylights out of it.

Several minutes, an attempted hickey, and several bold copped-feels later, Lou mumbled into Debbie’s neck, “By the by, I am madly in love with you. If that wasn’t obvious.”

“Aw, I’m head over heels for you too, baby. Though, I bet you say that to all the girls who help you steal hundreds of millions of dollars in jewelry.”

“Only the ones who do it for all the wrong reasons.”

Debbie huffed a laugh and leaned in to chase Lou’s lips.

“We should go to bed,” Lou suggested, lilting suggestively towards the inviting expanse of the emperor mattress.

“I agree,” Debbie grinned, sliding her thumbs under the hem of Lou’s pajama bottoms.

“And sleep,” Lou corrected her, though she didn’t stop her fiancé’s wandering hands from sliding around to her rear.  

“…I don’t follow.”

“We’ve got a big job to start planning tomorrow. The biggest!”

“Ah…” Debbie nodded with understanding, “You’re right. Navigating the guest list alone will be more challenging than the Met’s security grid.”

“Indeed. Perhaps it’ll even be enough to keep you from going off and cracking a safe, or whatever it is you do when you get bored.”

“The fact that you don’t think there’ll be any safe-cracking involved in our wedding is a grave disappointment.”

“Well, too bad, I’m not giving this ring back.”

“That’s alright,” Debbie sighed exaggeratedly, “After all, you’ve already stolen my heart.”

“If you ask very nicely…” Lou whispered, hopping back on the bed and gesturing elegantly with her be-ringed hand for Debbie to follow, “I’ll split my treasure, fifty-fifty.”

Debbie smiled, sly, before pouncing after Lou. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> lemme know all your feelings about the heist wives!!


End file.
